Summer '18 / H.S.

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Nice, France
June 2018

The lively Friday night atmosphere welcomed every new face into the already crowded bar. Typical for summer vacation, tourists were in every direction: American, Italian, English, Chinese, Spanish, and a few, outnumbered French locals.

The Riviera bar's visitors were expecting a special performer that warm night. Word quickly spread around regarding a young singer who roamed Europe all alone, stopping in whatever city he came across and performing at small bars and pubs. People knew about the reputation he held and couldn't stop their curiosity: "What's so great about this Harry Styles anyway?".

To say they were surprised when he finally appeared would be an understatement. A young, curly-haired, not even 20-year-old boy, standing on the stage with nothing but his black acoustic guitar and a white shirt with the first two buttons undone. That was Harry Styles?

A nervous little smile made its way onto his face as he noticed the rather large audience that evening. Nevertheless, after briefly introducing himself, mentioning his name and where he came from, Harry went straight to performing. That was the moment when the audience understood all the talk around the British boy's name. Although his voice wasn't as powerful as a professional's, Harry's stage presence and his passionate performing gave it all away. This was what he was born to do. And he knew it.

Around the 4th song, he attracted another pair of eyes to the stage, one that hadn't payed attention to him at all until that moment. The barmaid had been busy serving clients until she heard a familiar tune. She had heard that song before, but she just couldn't remember when.

Leaving the bar and making her way closer to the stage, she finally met eyes with the singer. She had seen those eyes before. And he had too.

From that moment, as though straight out of a cheesy romance movie, every time Harry's eyes would stray away from the girl's gaze, they would inevitably reuturn, singing the words to the song like they were composed just for that one barmaid.

"She, She lives in daydreams with me,
She's the first one that I see
And I don't know why,
I don't know who she is."

Then, it all came back to her. And it took her right back to the place where it all started.

London, UK
January 2017

It was a cold night that marked the last day of winter holiday. Mallory, French student in her final year of high school, was on her last school trip with her colleagues in London. It was the first time she had ever left France, so she wanted it to be memorable.

For that reason, on the last night, they decided to sneak out of the hotel past curfew and go to a nearby pub, where a young amateur artist was performing.

But "performing" was a nice way to put it. The boy on the stage was shaking so hard, his voice trembling, and often times playing wrong chords on his guitar. The high school students found that funny and, while waiting for their drinks, kept commenting on the poor singing, like teenagers do.

Just after finishing their first drinks, one of them proposed to leave for another pub, and the others were quick to agree.

'Mallory, you coming?' one of the girls asked.

Mallory, however, was enchanted by the singer's words. Somewhere, past the nervousness and insecurity, she saw so much potential. The lyrics were sincere and absorbing, but nobody seemed to notice them. All they saw was a scared kid with a guitar.

'I'll catch up to you, text me your location when you find something.'

The girl looked at her friend questionably, but followed the rest of the group shortly after.